


Tripping the Drunk Fantastic

by leftennant



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Drunken Doctor, F/M, Humor, Smuff, Smut, wallsex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor finally finds an alcohol he can't metabolize.  Rose has to deal with the fallout, which includes skin-tight denim shorts, attempted seduction, and a very infamous Superman T-shirt. (This is basically Crackfic based on a gif which combined a scene from MAAN and the TARDIS.  Don't blame me, this is all the fault of Dev and the girls over at BWR)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tripping the Drunk Fantastic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [develish1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/develish1/gifts).



Rose isn’t sure how it happened, but sometime around his fifteenth Kansylanian Mind Warper the Doctor had gotten completely pissed. It all began innocently enough, they’d stopped in for a replacement part at a bazaar in Kansylania.

“It will only be for a few hours, Rose. Don’t worry. Then we’ll be on our way, traveling the stars, space gypsies of time once again!”

Somehow, a few hours had turned into an overnight stay complete with a trip to the infamous BrainBender Bar and Grill.

“This will be _fun_! You like fun, Rose. Don’t worry, I’ll look out for you. Alcohol doesn’t stand a chance against my frankly magnificent metabolism.”

And all of it had lead to this moment, the Doctor, utterly blotto, dancing across the ramp with a plastic cup in his hand wearing… Dear God, how to describe it? When he waltzed out of the wardrobe room an hour prior, Rose nearly fell off the jump seat in shock.

Firstly, he is sporting a pair of _sandals_. Rose can’t even recall if she’s ever seen him without his trainers before today, and now she is watching his nearly naked Time Lord feet dance a two step around one of the struts. 

On top of this, he’d ditched his suit in favor of a body-hugging Superman t-shirt _tucked into_ a pair of skin-tight denim cut-offs that he must have used a shoehorn get on. The shorts left nothing to the imagination on any level. There's currently so much impressive alien package on display that Rose is having a hard time keeping her eyes above his belt buckle. 

Then there were the sunglasses. He'd produced Aviator-style shades from somewhere and they were still covering his eyes despite the low light in the console room. 

She may be baffled by his new attire, but the Doctor seems quite pleased with the results. Rose tries not to laugh as he comes boogieing over to her, plucking at the shirt with a self-satisfied grin.

“Look Rose, isn’t it brilliant? All fitted and soft. Really, it’s practically almost exactly like my suit. Only far better because there are no buttons to fuss with and it makes me feel like a super hero. Feel it, Rose. Just…touch it.” 

Still stifling a laugh, Rose obediently rubs a bit of the sleeve between her fingers. “Mm, yes, very soft.”

He tosses an arm around her shoulders and throws his other one out to gesture wildly in an indeterminate direction. “Think of it, all those planets and places we’ve gone to and the whole time I could have been wearing _this_! Only, maybe not the sandals…” The Doctor glances down at his feet. “Oh look! There are my toes! Hello!” 

Rose watches in disbelief as his grin turns ecstatic when his toes wiggle back at him. 

“Oh, they’re saying hello back! Did you see that? Very friendly, my toes.” He smiles indulgently at them. 

She spares a brief glance for his toes, before blowing the fringe off her forehead in exasperation. “Yeah, they’re great.” 

Rose is beginning to wonder what she’s going to do. It’s getting late and clearly she can’t leave him to his own devices. He’s libel to get behind the controls and in his inebriated state it’s possible that he’ll land them smack dab in the middle of a black hole. So far, she’s been able to distract him away from the console, but it is only a matter of time before she runs out of ideas. 

“Hey Rose, hey Rose… Remember this? I’m beating out a samba!” He holds both hands up at his shoulders and does a strange, jerky Latin dance-move that Rose remembers all too well. 

She gasps. Dear Lord, what _else_ does he remember from when Cassandra was in his head? Oh this could very bad. Best distract him immediately, before he starts commenting on how she was looking and whether or not she liked it. 

“Listen,” she says, attempting to get his attention as he takes another sip from the cup in his hand, “how long d’you think it will be before you can metabolize whatever it is you’ve been drinking? ‘Cause I’m sorta getting tired, and I’d like to go to bed.”

At the mention of bed, his head snaps up, and his eyes lock on hers in an almost predatory manner. Rose leans back into the dinged up foam of the jump seat apprehensively as he begins prowling around the console towards her.

“Oh, I’ll take you to bed, Rose Tyler. I’ll take you there and then do things to you that will make your toes curl…” He stops abruptly, just inches from her, and bends down to stare at her chest. “What is that on your shirt? Is that a polar bear? Oh, it _is_! I _love_ polar bears. All fuzzy, and furry and with the teeth like this…” 

The Doctor brings both hands up does an imitation of what she assumes are supposed to be polar bear teeth. As he waves them in front of his face, the cup in his hands tilts and a large amount of purple liquid careens over the side and lands with a loud splash on the grating. He looks down at the wet floor, thoroughly crestfallen.

“Oh, now, that is just…” The Doctor checks the remaining drink in his cup. “…really, really not good. There is so much less in here now, and when I say less, what I mean is tremendously, exponentially less. Highly inconvenient, since what I want is _more_. We might need to go back to the bar.”

“Or…” Rose says, stealthily approaching him and trying to pry the cup from his fingers, “…or you could just not drink the rest and save it for later. Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen? I’ll put the kettle on and make you a nice cuppa so you can sober up, hm?”

He starts to nod and then stops, looking at her with a perplexed expression. “Wasn’t there something I was going to do?” He ponders for a moment and then his face lights up like supernova. “Oh yes, I was going to make your toes curl with excellent sex. Are you ready, Rose, because I’ve got some rather clever ideas for that.”

“The thing is…” She bites her lip and tries to marshal her thoughts away from shagging the drunken Doctor. “I…um. I’m not really sure if that’s…”

“Hello Rose’s toes,” he interrupts gleefully, bending down and poking at the front of her left trainer. “I’m about to make you all curly wurly, just wait!”

She takes a step back, feeling blindly for the jump seat and trying to edge behind it. Really, could his timing be any worse? No matter how much she’d like to shag him, she can’t do it while he’s in this state and dressed like an extra from a bad 80s movie that was made before she was even born. He straightens back up and Rose wracks her brain trying to find a way to stall.

“Um, Doctor, that sounds very…intriguing…but like I said before, I’m a bit tired. I’m not sure I’m up for it.”

He casts a lascivious glance down at his zip and then back at her. “I am,” he says suggestively. “Up for it that is,” he continues, in case there was any way of mistaking his meaning. “Wanna see my Gallifreyan Trouser Snake? Because he wants to see you, Rose.” He follows up this statement by growling theatrically at her. 

She isn’t sure whether to laugh or run, and ends up choking out some sort of sound that she hopes he doesn’t take as a yes. If he keeps advancing on her like that, she’s going to end up in bed with him despite all her well-thought-out reasons not too. The last thing she wants is to have him regret something like that in the morning because he wasn’t in his right mind and she let it happen.

Rose has managed to get to the doorway leading to the hall at this point, and is slowly backing through it, when she sees him stagger a bit. Then his mouth breaks into an enormous yawn. She sighs in relief. It’s apparent the alcohol has started to knock him out, and if she times this very carefully, she may just manage to sort the situation without things getting out of hand. 

“Doctor, why don’t you let me help you get to your room, yeah? Then I’ll bring you that cup of tea I promised.”

He looks blearily at her for a moment, and follows her into the hallway, snagging an arm around her waist as they begin the trek to his room. After a few seconds he turns and nuzzles her hair. 

“You smell nice. Like strawberries, and fabric softener, and Rose.” He takes a deep breath near her temple and then moves his mouth closer to her ear. “Bet you taste nice too.”

Before Rose can react, he gives her neck a sloppy lick from collar bone to jaw, and smacks his lips together appreciatively. 

“Oh yes, very nice. I like tasting you. Why have I not done this before?” He gives her another lick, this time right across her left cheek.

Rose struggles to maintain her composure under his oral assault. It’s slow progress down the hall, what with her supporting most of his weight, and him frequently taking breaks to taste her. At one point, the cup tumbles heedlessly from his grip and falls to the floor, dumping its contents everywhere before merrily rolling away behind them. A few seconds later his sunglasses follow suit, clattering against the grating on the floor and skittering away. He leaves them there without a backwards glance. 

At long last they reach his door, and she struggles to keep him propped up and get it open. Unbeknownst to Rose, he’s resting most of his weight onto the wood, and when the door swings clear he goes pitching to the floor and brings her tumbling after him.

She lands splayed out over his chest, legs on either side of his. The Doctor’s lethargic state disappears in a flash as he uses their position to his advantage and neatly flips them over so he’s on top. He spreads her legs apart with his knees and brushes the tip of her nose with his. 

“Hello, Rose. Fancy meeting you here, in my bedroom, on the floor. Rather providential though, as I intend to fuck you senseless as soon as we get these clothes off.”

Rose gulps, pinned down by his dark, lust-crazed gaze. “You um, you’re gonna what?”

“I said,” he repeats as he trails his fingers down her arms so he can catch each of her wrists and pull her arms up over her head, “that I am going to fuck you senseless. Unless, of course, you don’t want me too.”

His expression shifts from predatory to concern, and he pulls his head away from hers. “You do want me too, right? Because if you don’t, I’ll let you leave. This is all up to you, Rose.”

The Doctor’s erection is pressing against her stomach and Rose decides there is only so much a girl can take. She makes one final attempt to look out for his best interests before giving in. “You’re drunk, yeah? You…you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Was drunk. Past tense, I metabolized it on the way to my room using the pheromones in your skin to break down the alcohol. Didn’t you wonder why I kept licking you? Now I’m just horny. Well, that and I’ve wanted you for months. Months, Rose. Long, lonely, endless months of wanting you. And if those lovely alcohol-reducing pheromones are any indication, you want me too.”

“We’re not making it to the bed, are we?” Rose asks, wriggling out of her shirt as best she can with him on top of her. 

“Nope.”

“Then get those god-awful shorts off, Doctor, and fuck me.”

“With pleasure, Rose.”

The next few minutes are taken up with frantic and largely uncoordinated clothing removal. He actually has to climb off Rose and stand so she can help him yank the confining shorts down his legs. This brings things rapidly to a head, as he isn’t wearing any pants. 

She stands there, wide-eyed, staring at the frankly massive erection confronting her. “That’s quite…um...” She can't find the proper adjective for her descriptive purposes. Fortunately, the Doctor is never short on vocabulary.

“Oh didn't I tell you? Gallifreyan Trouser Snakes are a very large species in general. And they’re practically extinct. In fact, you are standing in the presence only remaining Serpentes Gallifreyas in existence.” He smiles smugly. “Want to pet it?”

Rose giggles. “Does it bite?”

“No, it spits. But don’t worry. I’ll make it behave for you.” He takes himself in hand and strokes firmly from base to tip. “See? Practically harmless.”

“Famous last words,” she replies, but reaches out to wrap her hand around him anyway. 

Running her fingers lightly along his length, she squeezes gently and then tightens her grip so she can stroke him the way he just did. He inhales sharply and his hips jerk involuntarily.

The Doctor tips his head slightly as if working out a mathematical equation. “Ever had wall-sex, Rose?”

“Have I ever…what?” Her hand freezes and she stares at him, dry-mouthed with desire.

He grabs her hips, shifting her so their positions are reversed, and her back is to the smooth coral panels that line his room. “Had sex up against a wall. Hence the name, wall-sex.”

“Not… Not as such, no.” Her heart is pounding at a breakneck speed as he steps forward and slides a leg between hers at the same time her back encounters the cool coral behind her. 

“Want me to remedy that fact?” The Doctor begins kissing down her neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave a mark when he reaches the place where it meets her shoulder.

“Are you kidding me? Yeah, ‘course I do. If you can shut up long enough to do it.”

He eyes her speculatively. “That a challenge?”

“Thought you said you were gonna fuck me? Well? I’m waiting.” Rose pretends to consult a watch, even though her wrist, like the rest of her, is completely bare.

Her saucy behavior seems to spur him into action. Quick as a flash, Doctor slams his lips down on hers and slides his hands under her bum so he can hitch her up against the wall. She wraps her legs around his slim hips, moaning as his tongue slides inside her mouth. His cock twitches between them and he holds her up with one arm so he can position it at her entrance, rubbing it through the slickness there and using it to tease her clit. Rose curves desperately against the wall, head thrown back wantonly. 

“What do you want Rose? Tell me.” He continues to use his fingers and cock to torment her.

“You. Want you, Doctor. Please!” 

Without another word, he brings himself back to her entrance and begins to ease inside. The Doctor goes slow, giving her a chance to get used to him as he sheaths himself inside her tight, wet, heat. 

“Fuck, Rose… You feel incredible. Don’t move… Don’t... Fuck.” With a final thrust, he seats himself in her completely, before pulling out to plunge in again. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God… Doctor, that is so good.” She puts her palms on his shoulders for more leverage and begins to move in counterpoint to his thrusts.

He tips her hips into his a bit more and suddenly the friction has changed. Between the spot he’s hitting inside and the way he’s grinding against her sensitized clit on the outside, Rose is swiftly approaching her own release. She can feel it coiling down low in her abdomen, building and building until her legs are trembling where they’re locked around him. All it takes is one more kiss from him, one more slide of his tongue along hers, and she’s undone and falling. 

Her muscles clench and flutter around him, and he groans into her mouth as he follows her down, hips jerking into hers fiercely as his orgasm blazes through him in a firestorm of sensation. He waits until their bodies have stilled and then withdraws, gently setting her back down, but not letting go.

“That was amazing,” she mumbles into his neck.

“Mmm,” he agrees, lips pressed on her forehead.

“Doctor?”

“Yes, Rose?”

“We’re gonna have to get you drunk more often.”


End file.
